[ Weird is an understatement and that's saying something given that this isn't the first time Ryoko has been pulled into someone's memory today. It's instinct that sees her rise when the earth begins to crumble beneath their feet and it's a good fourteen, fifteen feet off the newly established ground that she remains as she turns golden eyes around a neighborhood that seems all too familiar to her. It's the style of the houses, the setup and intersections, the colors, the cicadas. It isn't Masaki Village. No, she'd have recognized that place in a single blink and heartbeat, but this, it is Japan and it's enough to make her pause. Make her ache in a way she isn't expecting, that she doesn't wholly understand in that first moment when she's turning her gaze around his -- yes, his -- memory.
It's the movement, the song that guides her eyes to find him. Er, rather the him living the memory, who is dressed quite differently and actively engaged in that popular game with several children. Some people might think oddly of the scene if not him outright, but Ryoko, leaning forward in peering that much more curiously at the stranger and the game, isn't one of them. To her, this looks like, well, fun. Kinda cute, too, if as unexpected as the familiarity about this place. Dropping her cheek in her free hand, she draws her legs up and folds them beneath her and with a smile as the circle comes to a stop. She's seen this game played by children in the village enough to know what happens now and she isn't disappointed. She can't quite help that budding curiosity when his name is called, though, and she realizes that quietly swelling sense of déjà vu that's gripped her for the last few minutes.
Once upon a time, the best Ryoko could have hoped for was to observe a certain boy whom she longed to play with. With her physical body sealed perfectly beneath the earth within that damned cave, it was all she could do in her astral form. Her index finger taps her cheek once, twice in reminding her just how corporeal she is in this moment.
Amaimon, eh?
She drops her gaze in wondering, tail waving behind her. She may not be able to join this game, and that's about as disappointing as fun interrupted now that she thinks back to it and the unspoken promise in held gazes, but -- oh, there's the genuine article! ]
Weird?
[ She echoes, teleporting so as to sit cross-legged upside down in mid-air beside him, their heads level. Those marshmallows are still well in hand if a little sticky now. Not even gravity seems capable of plying them from her hands as she looks him down, then up again. Between those claws, the fangs she knows she saw when he was taunting her with that marshmallow, and that curious 'do -- ]
I wouldn't say weird. Full of surprises seems more like it. [ Him, Nysa. Him. ] You don't look like any Earthling I've seen before, yet here you are in Japan and your name -- [ she glances briefly back to the girl who'd called it ] -- it's Amaimon, isn't it? Did I hear that right?
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It's the movement, the song that guides her eyes to find him. Er, rather the him living the memory, who is dressed quite differently and actively engaged in that popular game with several children. Some people might think oddly of the scene if not him outright, but Ryoko, leaning forward in peering that much more curiously at the stranger and the game, isn't one of them. To her, this looks like, well, fun. Kinda cute, too, if as unexpected as the familiarity about this place. Dropping her cheek in her free hand, she draws her legs up and folds them beneath her and with a smile as the circle comes to a stop. She's seen this game played by children in the village enough to know what happens now and she isn't disappointed. She can't quite help that budding curiosity when his name is called, though, and she realizes that quietly swelling sense of déjà vu that's gripped her for the last few minutes.
Once upon a time, the best Ryoko could have hoped for was to observe a certain boy whom she longed to play with. With her physical body sealed perfectly beneath the earth within that damned cave, it was all she could do in her astral form. Her index finger taps her cheek once, twice in reminding her just how corporeal she is in this moment.
Amaimon, eh?
She drops her gaze in wondering, tail waving behind her. She may not be able to join this game, and that's about as disappointing as fun interrupted now that she thinks back to it and the unspoken promise in held gazes, but -- oh, there's the genuine article! ]
Weird?
[ She echoes, teleporting so as to sit cross-legged upside down in mid-air beside him, their heads level. Those marshmallows are still well in hand if a little sticky now. Not even gravity seems capable of plying them from her hands as she looks him down, then up again. Between those claws, the fangs she knows she saw when he was taunting her with that marshmallow, and that curious 'do -- ]
I wouldn't say weird. Full of surprises seems more like it. [ Him, Nysa. Him. ] You don't look like any Earthling I've seen before, yet here you are in Japan and your name -- [ she glances briefly back to the girl who'd called it ] -- it's Amaimon, isn't it? Did I hear that right?